


Awakening

by CharmingProcrastinator



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, But mostly fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Frank Is a smitten idiot, Frank is a Male Escort, Kastlechristmas, POV Frank Castle, Romance, Some sexy times, kastlechristmas2k20, some FRANK/OFCs (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharmingProcrastinator/pseuds/CharmingProcrastinator
Summary: After five surprisingly successful years as a male escort, Frank Castle falls in love with one of his clients.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Karen Page, kastle
Comments: 24
Kudos: 58
Collections: kastlechristmas2k20





	1. Loft Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xlifefulloflaughterx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xlifefulloflaughterx/gifts).



> Merry (belated) Christmas, xlifefulloflaughetrx!
> 
> Here is your "Frank is a gigolo" Secret Santa fic, complete with a thick slice of fluff.

Frank Castle was on edge. As he rode the elevator up to the loft rented by the agency, he felt a weird blend of anticipation and trepidation, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He’d been doing this for over five years, now. And he was good at it. Never one unsatisfied customer. So why did this feel like he was about to cross some sort of threshold?

I mean sure, his agent certainly had brought on the pressure. The client he was about to meet was a good friend of Madani’s, and it was Madani who had handpicked him for her. She would also be paying for his services as a gift to her friend. Maybe that’s what was weirding him out… This sort of felt like some sort of blind date… Whether by phone or by email, he usually communicated with his clients directly before meeting with them, making sure everyone was on the same page.

“Are you sure I’m the right one for your friend?” he’d asked Dinah, taken aback. While he had no shortage of clients, he also knew that his looks were not everyone’s cup of tea. He was not nearly as popular as Bill, for example. Frank, as Madani herself had once put it, was very niche… The looks of a brute, with the manners of a gentleman, a very specific combo that fit very specific tastes.

“Yes. I really don’t think she likes shiny and slick pretty boys, and your old-fashioned guy shtick is exactly what she needs.” She’d hesitated a beat. “She… She has trust issues. And I know you are really good at putting your clients at ease. If anyone can make her comfortable, it’s you.”

Frank nodded, trying not to bristle at Madani dismissing his ingrained code of conduct as a mere _shtick_. She trusted him with someone whom she obviously cared about a lot, so he couldn’t take too much offence at her choice of words. Sugar-coating had never been her style.

“I’m reserving the loft for you two; she can stay overnight if she likes, but I’m paying you for four hours. Keep the clothes simple. No suit. I think she’s done with men in suits for the rest of her life.”

So here Frank was, in jeans paired with a black buttoned shirt rolled at the sleeves and black boots, about to meet a client whom he knew very little about, but whom he surmised was probably quite nervous. He exited the elevator, made his way to the loft to get things ready.

He fixed the lighting to make it inviting and made sure there were candles in place in both the bathroom and the bedroom. He saw that Madani had had some food delivered, sushi and the obligatory chocolate covered strawberries. A bottle of prosecco was already chilling in a bucket.

He chose some music, trusting his instinct, and betting on classic blues rather than crooners. He started to relax. He was good at this. Focus on the mission: show the lady a good time, and have some fun of his own along the way.

Before long, he heard what could only be described as a hesitant knock at the loft’s door. “Here we go,” he thought as he went to open it, with a smile that he hoped would help put his client at ease and make him appear as non-threatening as a guy of his size and bulk could.

Only his years of experience prevented him from gaping like a fish when he first glimpsed at the woman standing nervously on the other side of the door. Now Frank had had his share of beautiful clients (Beth, for one, could and had turned heads wherever they went), but this one was just breathtaking.

“Karen?” he greeted.

“Yes, hi. Pete, right?” she replied, tucking a strand of her long blond hair behind her ear.

“Yes, c’mon in.”

He held the door for her, giving her chance to walk far enough into the loft before following her, making sure not to crowd her too much too fast.

He noticed she was only carrying a laptop bag, so maybe she wasn’t planning on staying the night despite the loft being hers until the morning.

“Did you come here straight from work?” he asked, pointing at her bag.

Karen blushed. “Erm, yes… I… I had to keep myself busy to stop agonizing about whether I was really going to go through with this or not. I almost cancelled at least 10 times today, until finally, it was so close to our… appointment time that it would have been too rude to do so.”

“OK, let me make something really clear, Karen: you owe me nothing. I’m here for you. If you feel like you don’t want to be here, I won’t stop you from leaving, and no one will think any worse of you. Or, if you’d rather _I_ leave, just say the word, and I’ll be out the door. You call the shots, here, OK?”

Karen visibly swallowed, and looked down at her hands, which she had been twisting since she’d walked through the door. She took a deep breath, looked back at him with a soft smile, and whispered, “OK.”

“How about we eat a bite, get to know each other a little bit… Would you like a drink?”

Karen put her laptop bag down on the floor, near the coffee table. “Sure.”

“There’s some sparkling wine on ice, but we also have a fully stocked bar, I can make you just about anything you like.”

“I’m more of a beer kinda gal, to be honest,” she said, taking in the surroundings.

“Alright, let’s take a look at what we got.”

He rattled off their choices, and seeing the sushi on the counter, she ended up choosing a Sapporo; Frank did the same.

He was about to ask if she wanted to eat at the counter or at the dinner table when he caught her eyeing the pool table.

“You play?” he asked.

“Occasionally. You?”

“Same. How about a game?”

Karen graced him with a genuine smile this time, more tenseness leaving her shoulders.

“Why not?”

Frank racked the balls while she selected her cue stick.

“You want to break?” she asked.

“Ladies first.”

Karen shrugged, then bent down gracefully before breaking masterfully, sinking a few striped balls.

Frank whistled. “Damn. I’m gonna get my ass handed to me, aren’t I?”

“Dunno, haven’t seen you play yet.” She teased.

And like that, the ice was fully broken. They played a few games; as it turned out, they were pretty evenly matched, which made for a lot of fun. Their teasing jabs turned flirtier, and Frank found himself forgetting by moments that he was working, and not on an actual date. Karen was not just drop dead gorgeous; she was funny, smart and seemed quite sweet too. He gradually started standing closer to her, touching her arm here and there, and when she started touching him back, he knew they were on track, that he was probably going to be able to complete the mission.

They ended up eating the sushi side by side at the counter, their knees touching. They talked about everything and nothing, the view from the loft, her job as a reporter, the best diners in town, his taste in music (very similar to hers, it turned out), her desire to travel one day, when she had the funds, and his own travels back when he was in the Marines.

When they were done with the sushi, Frank offered her one of the chocolate-covered strawberries, which actually made her giggle. Christ, she was adorable. Frank couldn’t remember ever being so smitten by a client.

“Those are so cliché,” she laughed, taking the offered treat from his fingers. “They don’t seem your style at all…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ma’am, that shit is delicious,” he replied, biting into one.

She followed suit, and made an appreciative sound that sent a shiver of desire down his spine. And just like that, the air became charged with tension again, but of a much more pleasant kind, this time.

He ate a second strawberry, never taking his eyes off hers. She flushed a bit, but now, he was pretty sure it was more out of arousal than out of shyness or embarrassment. Time to bring out the big guns.

“Can I show you something?” he asked, reaching out to her.

“Okay,” she replied breathlessly, slipping her hand into his extended one.

They stood up and he took her past the large king-size bed that she had, to his amusement, very deliberately avoided looking at all night long, and through the French doors to the luxurious bathroom.

Inside were an impressive tub and an even more impressive shower, one with multiple jets, in which he had had many fun encounters with some clients; Beverly, one of his regulars, was quite fond of it. But with Karen, he was pretty sure further relaxation was the key to moving their time together forward.

“How do you feel about a bath and a massage?” he asked.

There was a beat where she seemed to fight with herself, and then she sighed, before admitting that it sounded really good.

Frank drew the bath, then offered to go get the prosecco. Karen laughed. “What the hell! Let’s live it up!”

He smiled and left her to undress while he retrieved the bottle and two champagne flutes. He made sure to knock against the frame of the opened bathroom door before entering, and was happy to hear her invite him to come in.

Karen had slipped into the tub, and the generous amount of bubble bath he’d put in hid most of her body from view. He could just make out the swell of her breasts above the suds, and it made his mouth go dry. This woman had an effect on him like no one had in a very long time.

He tried not to dwell too much on it. This was not about him, after all. And if he ended up being more aroused than usual, and having even more fun than usual, surely that couldn’t be a bad thing, right?

He poured her a glass and handed it to her.

She thanked him, and then looked at him for a moment before asking, somewhat shyly.

“Would you like to get in with me?”

Frank cocked an eyebrow. “I’d love to, if you want me to.”

Karen looked him in the eye. “I do.”

“Alright, then.”

He took off his watch, and started unbuttoning his shirt while holding her stare. The small intake of breath he heard from her once he removed it and moved on to his belt stroked his ego; for some reason, knowing he was attractive _to her_ was intoxicating, and he had to stop himself from finishing undressing in a rush, like an eager puppy. The idea, after all, was to give the lady a bit of a show.

Karen kept her eyes on him up until the moment he stripped out of his underwear, when she suddenly seemed to find the bubbles inside her flute quite fascinating. He He did catch her slipping a glance at him when he climbed into the tub, and he was sure that the fact that he was already half hard did not escape her notice.

He sat across from her and reached for his own flute, extending it towards her; they clinked their glasses and drank, never breaking eye contact. He put his flute back down, before reaching for her foot underneath the water.

“May I?”

Karen huffed a laugh. “Does anyone ever turn down a foot massage?”

Frank smiled as he started massaging her perfectly pedicured feet, taking in the black nail polish on her toes. His smile faded a bit when, after he dug his thumb on a particular point on her arch, Karen let out a moan that went straight to his dick.

“You’re really good at that,” she complimented.

Normally, he would reply something along the lines of “I’m great at a lot things,” but instead, he found himself explaining to her that he was a few months away from finally getting his DPT. That was a detail about his personal life that he had never shared with a client, not even his regulars and favourites. Just another way this woman was throwing him off his game, making him forget that this was a work engagement, and nothing more.

As he moved away from her feet and up to her calf, he felt it was time for him to ask the question that had been on his mind since their evening together began.

“So… normally I get a chance to touch base with a client before we meet, to sort out particular do’s and don’ts on both sides… But you know, this being set up by Madani, we didn’t get to work out any of that… But she did mention you had trust issues?

Karen snorted, then took a long sip of her drink.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

Frank pressed on. “I’m not gonna ask for any details you don’t want to give, but I do need to know if there’s anything, any part of your body, or any words or acts that I need to steer clear of.”

Karen looked at him, pensively. “No… nothing like that, no trauma or triggers… Just, good ol’ relationship woes. I don’t want to bore you with those.”

“It’s not boring if it’s important.”

Karen smiled, and lifted one shoulder. “I’d really rather not get into all that. It’s just not first date material… Not that this is a date!” she added with some panic.

He laughed, and she instantly relaxed again.

“If it was a date, it would be the weirdest one I’ve ever had. Naked and in a tub before the kissing even begins,” she mused.

“Feeling pretty confident there’s gonna be kissing, huh?” Frank teased.

Now it was Karen’s turn to laugh, and she flicked some water at him

This was it. The opening Frank needed to seal the deal. He grabbed her hand and ran his thumb across it.

“Hey… C’mere.” He tugged on her hand, lightly, just an invitation. As he had hoped, Karen accepted it, and moved towards him, finally, finally touching him; she straddled him and wrapped her hands around his shoulders, resting her forehead against his.

He was practically trembling with anticipation, but he had to ask.

“I _would_ like to kiss you. That alright?”

Karen exhaled. “Yes. Please.”

As he captured her lips and heard himself moan at the taste of her, Frank came to a crushing realization: for the first time since he started working as an escort, he was in trouble.


	2. Interlude - Origin Story

If, only a few years before, you had told Frank he would go on to find success and financial security working as a male escort (or as a gigolo, as Curtis insisted on calling it), he would have laughed at you. But life is strange. It can be wonderful, it can be cruel, but at the end of the day, it can also send you down the most surprising paths.

Maria had been relieved when Frank, still fresh from his honourable discharge after nearly 12 years as a Marine, had told her he’d figured out what he wanted to do to earn a living as a civilian. It hadn’t taken much soul-searching, in the end. There was one profession that had garnered a great deal of his respect during his time in the corps… Having seen his close friend Curtis lose a limb, then learn to walk again with a prosthetic leg, as well as having witnessed countless other brothers and sisters in arms recover from what were originally mobility-restricting injuries, he knew how he’d like to help people from now on. Though it meant money would be tight for a while, Maria was immediately supportive when Frank told her he wanted to be a physiotherapist. They’d make it work, she said. They could do this. Even with a baby on the way, she was ready to stand by him as he, at 30 years of age, was about to embark on a seven-year journey to get his license.

He had just begun to look into schools and financial aid when, one morning, while she was standing in the kitchen, buttering some toast, Maria just collapsed. A brain aneurysm. A sudden, random twist of fate; one minute, Frank’s wife was there, the next, she was gone, along with the baby that would have come to complete their family.

He’d been devastated. He spent nearly a year mourning in all kinds of unhealthy ways, getting into bar fights with loudmouth strangers, even considering re-enlisting, hoping that jumping back into war would finally numb him up, and for good.

It was Curtis, but mostly Maria’s parents, of all people, who helped shake him out of his downward spiral. Frank had just gotten the cheque from Maria’s life insurance, and he had gone to his in-laws to offer to sign the money over to them. Maria’s folks were good people, the best people. And so, even as they mourned their only daughter, they took it upon themselves to straighten Frank up: “Take that money, and use it to become the man my daughter assured me you were. Make my Maria proud,” Frank’s mother-in-law told him.

And so he did. He sold the house he had shared with the love of his life, moved into a small apartment, applied to some schools and started college, feeling way too old among the kids sitting next to him in his freshman classes. Still, he kept his head down, studied hard. Thanks to his friend Bill, he found a job as a bartender in a quiet, fancy hotel (he’d tried, but he was too cranky a guy to work in clubs or bars; both the loud music and the patrons got on his nerves and made him want to start throwing punches).

But college was expensive, and so was rent in New York. Frank had been four years a widower and three years into his bachelor degree when found he had stretched his money as far as it could go. He still had four years of school to do. He was working the bar one night, trying to calculate how many more shifts he could add to his schedule without burning himself out to the point of affecting his studies and ruining his chances of getting into the DPT program, and trying to calculate how old he would be by the time he paid off his student debts if he applied to financial aid, when an attractive woman in crisp business suit sat at the bar, and ordered a glass wine.

It was a quiet night, and they got to talking a bit. Her name was Evelyn, she was in town for a business meeting. She was pretty humble about it, but Frank could tell she was a big shot in her field. He sensed it in her quiet confidence, and when the talk turned flirty, he found himself truly attracted to a woman for the first time since the day his wife had died.

Grief had all but done away with his libido for a while. By the time that part of his psyche had started waking up again, he was nose-deep in text books and spent most of his waking hours surrounded almost exclusively by girls who were only two or three years out of high school. Needless to say, that, since he was not a creep, he did not find this an appropriate dating pool.

Curtis and Billy had tried to get him to sign up for one of those dating apps, but every time he sat down to start a profile, he found he couldn’t go through with it. For all that he was starting to notice women again, actively seeking the company of one still felt like a betrayal. His body was ready, but his head wasn’t, never mind his heart.

That night, however, with Evelyn, when she told him to charge her tab to room 1206 and let him know in no uncertain terms that she would be going to bed late if he wanted to come up after his shift, Frank realized that he wanted to take her up on her offer. And so he did.

It had been so clear that it was sex, and nothing else, that was on the table. Which, given how he still missed and longed for Maria, was exactly what he needed. A simple encounter, no feelings involved. No risk of any party getting their feelings hurt. Perfect.

They had a great time. Evelyn was very assertive, very clear about what she wanted from him. It was a new dynamic for Frank, but it suited him just fine. Just like it suited him just fine, when, the next morning, when he woke up, Evelyn was already gone, along with her suitcase. He put on his clothes, but as he grabbed his jacket, he felt an unfamiliar weight in one of the pockets. It was an envelope, and what he found inside left him speechless. It was a note from Evelyn, a simple “Thank you for last night”, but with the slip of paper were eight crisp one hundred dollar bills.

Frank had sat on the bed, stunned, and uncertain how he should feel about the fact that someone had just paid him for sex. He tried to think back on his conversation with Evelyn to see if at any point there had been any hint that she thought him to be a sex worker. He couldn’t find one…

Next he tried to figure out if he should be insulted by this, if he should feel dirty of cheapened. He found he didn’t. At all. 800 $. That would keep him fed for weeks, without having to take on any additional shifts. So he decided to be grateful for this misunderstanding between Evelyn and him. She clearly could afford it, and besides, he had no way of finding her and returning the money to her, at least not without asking someone at the front desk to slip him a guest’s personal info, which was a big no no, for obvious reasons.

It might have been a fluke, something that would eventually become a funny anecdote to share one day, on some drunken night with his buddies. But Evelyn came back to the bar two months later. She invited him to her room. And Frank couldn’t think of any reason to say no.

A few weeks later, a woman sat at the bar and casually let it slip that she was a friend of Evelyn, and that Evelyn had recommended she come for a drink at this hotel bar. Frank got the hint. And he went along with it. Sex, with no strings attached, and a paycheck? It was a no-brainer at that point.

It was after that night that Bill took him aside to teasingly take him to task for stealing his clients. And it all clicked in. Evelyn had come looking for Billy on someone’s recommendation that first night. Whether she had thought that Frank was Bill, or that she had seen Frank and decided that he was more suited to her tastes, they would never know. Either way, that was when Frank found out that Bill was a male escort, and had been one for a few years. The bartending job was just a side thing. Which explained a lot of things about Bill being able to afford his many creature comforts. But Bill also had an “agent”, someone who would help match him with clients, and made sure both parties were in agreement as to what the encounter would and would not include.

And so Bill introduced Frank to Dinah Madani, which is when he officially started his career as a so-called gigolo.

And it was five surprisingly successful years after that day that Frank Castle fell in love with one of his clients.


	3. Of Books and Men

Frank woke up with disorienting mix of emotions. He felt something very akin to bliss, and smiled when he heard the woman in his arms mumble something unintelligible in her sleep. And then came the rush of panic when he realized he had fallen asleep and spent the night with his client instead of leaving as he was supposed to do. As he was _paid_ to do.

It was completely unlike him to forget himself this way. But maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised; no time he had ever spent with a client, not even one of his favourites, had ever felt like his night with Karen had. The fact was that Frank had never felt so in sync, so quickly with any client.

Things had escalated quickly once they had gotten to kissing. He’d made Karen come on his fingers before they left the tub. He’d tried to be a gentleman after that, helping her out of the bath, drying her with one of the loft’s fluffy towels, but that only seemed to make them hungrier for each other, and he ended up taking her against the wall of the bathroom after scrambling through his jeans pocket to fish out a condom with as much finesse as a horny teenager.

It had been spectacular. Karen was incredibly responsive, and Frank himself had felt like a man possessed while he was inside of her. They had laughed together in astonishment when it was over. He’d grabbed them some robes, and when Karen had confessed her legs were kind of shaky, he’d scooped her, fireman style, which made her squeal and then laugh joyfully, which was exactly the reaction he’d wanted.

He had dropped her on the bed, and they’d snuggled and made out, talking about this and that. The clock was ticking, and Frank had known their time together was coming to an end, but he didn’t want to let go of her, and she did not seem inclined to kick him out either. And when he ended up having her again, it had felt different. Less frenzied, but more intense. More intimate.

Frank had known it was past time for him to go, but it felt so good to be in bed with her, he’d kept telling himself “Okay, five more minutes, then you bid the lady goodnight.” But even when Karen fell asleep, he couldn’t make himself leave. And before he knew it, he was asleep and then it was morning, and here he was, still wrapped around her.

He slipped out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He freshened up as much as he could without jumping in the shower and got dressed. He debated bringing Karen coffee in bed, but decided against it. Coffee and breakfast in bed were part of the boyfriend experience package, and that was not what had been agreed on. As much as he would love to spend more time with Karen, and despite their undeniable chemistry the night before, he had no idea how she’d react to the fact that he was still around. She could be mad, or plain uncomfortable. He couldn’t take that chance. Who was it that said “I don’t pay them for the sex, I pay them to leave afterward” again?

Still, sneaking out felt wrong. But hey, he was a professional. He had to put his personal feelings aside.

When he got out of the bathroom, though, Karen stirred and blinked awake. His heart skipped a beat. So much for a discreet exit to hide the fact he had overstayed his welcome

“Hey,” she whispered, gracing him with the sweetest smile.

Frank couldn’t help himself. He walked on over to her and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Morning. Sorry, I fell asleep. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Oh no, I mean… don’t worry about it. It’s fine,” she replied sitting up, holding the sheet to her chest and running her hand nervously through her hair. “Guess I wore you out!” she teased.

Frank laughed. “Yeah, I guess you did.”

Her expression turned a little more serious.

“Thank you for last night, Pete. It was… Well, I really needed that. So thank you.”

Frank found that his heart was pounding in his chest. He took her hand and brought it to his lips.

“It was my pleasure, Karen. Truly.”

They stayed there for beat, staring into each other’s eyes. Then, giving Karen’s hand a final squeeze, Frank made himself get up and leave to the loft.

***

He couldn’t get her out of his mind. One night with Karen, and he was obsessed. Lovesick. When he was alone at night, he kept replaying their night in his mind, remembering all the sounds she made, how wet she had been for him. He combed his memory for details again, and again and again. The way she had whispered “yes” or begged “please” at all his suggestions during their second go on the bed. How her eyes had flashed when he had glided his hand across her throat before cupping her jaw while he was taking her from behind, lying on their side. How that gorgeous hair of hers moved around her face while she was riding him. How they couldn’t stop from gazing into each other eyes while they were just doing it good ol’ missionary style. Everything. Every moment they had shared became his exclusive jerk off material.

Exclusive, apart from all the things they didn’t get to do, but that he wished they had, that is. He hadn’t had the chance to go down on her, for one. And sometimes, he pictured her getting on her knees for him. He reserved that fantasy for when he needed to get things over and done with quickly.

But through all this, be them memories or made up fantasies, there was one fundamental difference. In his head, when she called his name, she never called by his work name. In his head, whether she whispered or screamed it, the name she called was always Frank.

Client-wise, things were relatively quiet, which for once, was a relief. Frank, not matter how much he might have chided himself for it, was having a hard time keeping his mind in the game. He needed to pull himself together. This was not healthy.

The universe, it seemed, had different plans for him, though

On crisp October Saturday, Frank decided to take a day off studying to go walk around town, deciding to duck into a used book store to browse the shelves.

He was browsing through the classics, clutching the Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe he’d found, when he bumped into someone. He turned to apologize, but his breath got caught in his throat when he realized just who it was that he had accidentally jostled.

Standing there, dressed much more casually than she had been that night, nearly two months ago, her hair up in a messy bun, with no makeup on but still so breathtakingly beautiful, stood the object of his obsession.

Karen’s eyes widened in recognition. “Pete!”

Frank thankfully recovered from his shock pretty quickly. He hadn’t looked in the mirror too closely this morning, and he was probably sporting an impressive five o o’clock shadow, but at least his jeans and his hoody were clean. He probably wasn’t looking too repulsive at the moment, and he was glad of that, as he noticed Karen’s blue eyes fully taking him in,

“Karen. Hi!”

“Hey.”

They did a bit of semi-awkward small talk for a minute, but once the initial shock from this chance encounter has dissipated, Frank felt that sense of ease, that sense of right from their night together return. Karen did too, judging by the way she visibly relaxed as they started discussing the book Frank held in his hands.

“That’s some seasonally appropriate reading,” she commented.

And just like that, they were off, Frank explaining about his schedule not giving him much time to read, and short stories being the better choice for his current attention span, how he got into reading the classics in his 30’s, while taking some lit classes during his undergraduate degree (but mostly through his buddy Curtis, who saw reading as therapeutic and had bullied his grieving friend into taking up the hobby instead of taking up drinking. But Frank kept that part to himself).

In return, she told him about having had to take a hiatus from reading after completing her English degree, and how life-changing it had been once she realized that she didn’t have to finish a book if she wasn’t enjoying it, because _no one_ was going to be testing her on it.

He paid for his book, but she left the bookstore empty-handed, having failed to find the one she was looking for. When they walked out into the sunny crisp autumn air, through some unspoken agreement, they started taking a stroll together, talking about their favourite spots around Hell’s Kitchen, and then stopping to buy coffee from a cart at Central Park’s entrance, before entering it to go look at the changing leaves.

At one point, after they’d shared many personal anecdotes about their childhood and their teenage years, Karen asked how Frank had come to sex work.

“You’re not going to turn this into a story for the Bulletin, are you?” he teased.

“No! I mean, not only would I never do that without asking first, but it’s not really my sort of story… I mostly cover the crime beat.”

Frank knew. He’d been reading her work. Made a point to comb the Bulletin to find her stories. He also knew she was downplaying the importance of her work. She was an investigative journalist, who had uncovered several corruption schemes. She was clearly a rising star in her field, and he was damn impressed.

“You don’t have to tell me, I realize this is a very personal question. You can tell me to fuck right off, I won’t be offended.”

Frank shook his head.

“Aah, well, it’s kind of a long story.”

They sat on a park bench overlooking the lake, and he found himself telling her everything, even about Maria (which prompted Karen to slide her fingers through his in silent sympathy), about deciding to go to school even if his future hopes and plans had been resolutely cleaved in two by the loss of his wife and unborn child, about Evelyn’s fateful invitation, about finding out about Bill and then meeting with Dinah.

“So basically… it’s been a fun way to earn really good money,” he concluded.

“Would it be weird for me to tell you that you’re really good at it?” Karen asked. “Because you’re really good at it!

Frank chuckled and felt his ears turn red. He knew he was good at sex work, his clients never complained, and most of them came back from more at least once or twice… but hearing it from her felt different somehow.

“Why, thank you, ma’am.”

It was Karen’s turn to huff a laugh. “You know what _is_ weird, though?” she added after a beat. “This isn’t weird.” She motioned her hand back and forth between them. “I keep thinking things should be awkward right now, but they’re just not!”

Frank grunted in agreement. And having shared so much of himself, Frank couldn’t help wanting to ask her a question that had been burning his tongue since the night they met.

“Can I ask a personal question of my own? About those trust issues of yours?”

Karen gave him the sort of smile that told him she’d been expecting this subject to pop up.

“Alright. Let’s see… in the last two years alone, I had to kick a would-be one night stand out my apartment when he started getting scarily insistent on not wearing a condom. Then I started dating a close friend of mine, someone I was really into, and then barely a week after we got together, he dumped me for his ex, over text message of all things. Then… I started seeing someone who was actively deceiving me from the moment he asked if he could buy me a drink, to the moment I had to shoot him when he decided he was bored with his cat and mouse game, and it was finally time for him to kill me, which is what his mobster boss had wanted him to do all along. The only thing that saved me was the fact that he had no idea I was armed.”

“Holy shit.” The first two stories were exactly the kind of misfortunes that Frank had expected to hear about, but the last one was just… it made Frank feel positively murderous.

“Yeah. I feel like I’m done dating forever. Can’t trust men I meet on Tinder or whatever. Can’t trust men who were my friend not to break my heart. Can’t trust men who buy me a drink at a bar because they might turn out to be a psychopath working for a mobster who is angry I wrote an expose that got him arrested for his crimes…”

It was Frank’s turn to squeeze Karen’s hand in sympathy.

“But then, sometimes… It just feels nice to touch and be touched, you know. And I guess Dinah knew that when she decided to, um, set us up. As a birthday gift to me.

“Hey, I can touch you and let you touch me anytime you want,” Frank blurted out.

Karen made a weird (adorable) sound, something halfway between a squeak and a hiccup. She looked at him with such wide eyes that he couldn’t help but laugh and wink at her. Which turned out to be a mistake, because it made her take his reply as a joke.

She slapped his arm with the back of her hand. “Funny. I couldn’t afford you, anyway,” she quipped back. She shivered. “I’m getting cold. We should start walking again.”

And so they did. They walked aimlessly, admiring the changing leaves, until they ended up exiting the park, somewhere in the Upper West Side. Eventually, they walked into another used bookstore, but only when Karen came back empty-handed again did it occur to Frank to ask. “Hey, what book are you looking for anyway?”

Karen blushed. “Oh, it’s pretty silly. Did you ever read that book when you were a kid, “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark?”

Frank made an affirmative noise, amused.

“I don’t know, I heard they made a movie of it, and I was hit with a wave a nostalgia, thinking about how my brother and I would always read it by flashlight around this time of year when we were kids. He was younger, but I think the images scared me more than they did him. Anyway, I really want to reread them, but with the _original_ illustrations.”

“I actually have a copy of that. You can borrow it to take a trip down memory lane ‘til you can locate a copy of your own,” Frank heard himself say, though he was wisely able to stop his next thought from coming out of his mouth, which was “It’ll give me an excuse to see you again.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Why don’t you stop by the bar after work on Thursday or Friday? I’ll hand it over to you.”

“That would be great!”

Frank gave her the name and address of the hotel, then told her they should exchange numbers, in case something came up. But when Karen took her phone out and opened her contacts, he had to stop her before she could start typing his name.

“It’s Frank, by the way. My real name’s Frank.”

Karen looked startled, and he felt bad for a second. They had shared some many intimate details of their lives throughout the afternoon that he wondered whether she felt betrayed he hadn’t corrected her sooner, at any of the times she had called him Pete.

“Oh, that makes sense. That you’d use a pseudonym for your work,” she recovered. “Frank,” she mused, as if trying the name on for size. Then she looked at him, pensive. “Yes. That definitely makes sense.”

They exchanged phone numbers. Dusk was settling around them. They’d spent all afternoon together, and still, Frank didn’t want to say goodbye. Wanted to ask her out to dinner. But he couldn’t. Pete had work tonight. A new client, who wanted the whole boyfriend experience package. Dinner at a restaurant, full night at the loft and breakfast in bed. He had to go home, shower, shave and most of all, get his head into the game so he’d be able to focus on the lady who had requested his services, and not just moon over his afternoon with Karen.

“It was really great bumping into you, Karen.”

“Likewise, _Frank_. See you Friday?”

“I’ll be expecting you.”

Frank tried really, really hard not to keep his eyes on the bar’s entrance like an eager puppy. Given the puzzled looks Billy kept giving, he guessed he was failing rather spectacularly.

“Expecting someone, Frankie?”

“Just a friend.”

The bar got busy in a way it only ever did when all conference rooms happened to be booked on a Friday and businessmen and women all converged on the hotel’s bar for an impromptu happy hour. This kept Frank occupied enough that he almost forgot about Karen, and so he was startled and quite annoyed when he heard a woman call out “Hey, barkeep, how about some service over here?” He turned around, prepared to tell this lady (as politely as he could) to wait her fucking turn, when his brain caught up with his ears and eyes and he realized that the rude patron was actually Karen, eyes filled with mirth at what was no doubt his grumpy expression.

He pointed at a free stool at the end of the bar. “Why don’t you grab a seat while you wait for your turn, Ma’am?”

Frank finished preparing an order for a large table, and then grabbed the book from its hiding space under the bar to bring it over to his lovely guest.

“Here you go, one children’s book with seriously fucked-up drawings for the lady.”

Karen chuckled, and reached for the book like it was something precious, with an expression akin to wonder in her eyes. She flipped it open to the first page, and saw the inscription from his mother inside, the very reason Frank had held on to this book all these years. When his mom had died, his dad had followed her very soon after. And as Frank and Maria emptied out his parents’ house, Frank found there was little he wanted to keep as a memento. But this book, lovingly dedicated to him by his mom when he was twelve, before he turned into a terror of a teenager, that had seemed like a fitting souvenir to always remind him that, despite how taxing his (very) turbulent years had been on the old couple, which he suspected might have contributed to sending them to an early grave, he had been loved. This inscription was also why he could only ever offer to lend the book to Karen, and not sell it or give it to her.

“Can I get you something? A beer?”

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind something a little stronger,” she replied.

“Rough day at work?”

“Rough week,” she sighed. “Could I get a bourbon, on the rocks?”

“Sure, Maker’s Mark ok?”

“Perfect!”

Frank poured Karen her drink, feeling Billy’s eyes burning a hole through his back. He left Karen to her bourbon and the book, and went back to serving other patrons.

When he had time, he’d go check in with her; at one point, she put away the book and started doing the New Yorker’s crossword puzzle on her phone, roping him into helping her whenever he could spare a moment. At one point, Billy approached him and said: “You have some competition, Frankie.”

Frank turned to see that some guy in an expensive suit had sat on the free stool next to Karen and was trying to chat her up. The blonde really didn’t seem into the guy, in fact, she looked cross in a way Frank had never seen before, but it was obvious suit guy either wasn’t getting the hint or was determined to ignore the very clear back-the-fuck-off signals Karen was giving.

Frank knew that Karen could take care of herself, and he knew it wasn’t his place to play the jealous boyfriend either, but he had never been the type to look the other way when a jackass was clearly harassing a woman. Frank approached right in time to hear Karen say that she was fine where she was and that she could get her own drink, thank you very much, and then see the sleaze try to squeeze her against the bar while he called her a stuck-up bitch.

Frank saw red. “Back off, asshole!” he yelled before jumping over the bar to grab the creep and twist his arm behind his back, pushing his face down against the bar.

“Apologize to the lady,” he growled.

The suit was practically snivelling, but he obviously didn’t know what was good for him, because he refused to oblige and started threatening to have Frank fired for this.

“Try it, you little shit. This is a classy joint. We don’t take too kindly to jerks who act like fucking cavemen,” he replied, pushing down on the asshole’s arm and making him yelp.

“Frank, stop it! He’s not worth it,” came Karen’s panicked voice.

“You’re right about that.” Frank jerked the suit upright, and called out to Billy. “Be right back, Bill I have to take out the trash.”

He marched the jerk to the hotel’s security desk, telling him to “Shut up” when he started whining threats once again. Frank could have kicked him out of the building himself, but it wasn’t his job, and security would be able to make sure to log the incident in case the creep did try to sue, or to come back to retaliate against Frank or any of the staff, or even to bother Karen some more. He’d seen it all over the years.

When he came back to the bar, Bill was talking to Karen, who didn’t seem too shaken up after all; given what she had been through before, this whole sequence had probably seemed like small potatoes to her, he supposed.

“I’ll leave you to your knight in shining armour,” he heard Billy say. Karen’s expression was something halfway between amusement and embarrassment.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes. You?”

Frank shrugged. “It happens from time to time. Sorry you had to deal with this.”

Karen ran her hands through her hair, letting them settle behind her neck. “You know, normally, I might give you shit and tell you I can take care of myself, but that guy was really aggressive, and really tanked, and I couldn’t really see myself pulling my gun out in a crowded place like this… so… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They stared at each other for a beat. Karen was about to say something, when Bill yelled at Frank, somewhat humorously, to get back behind the bar.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night,” she said. She offered to pay for her drink, but Frank wouldn’t hear of it. He motioned to Bill that he was walking Karen out, eliciting an eye roll from his friend, but he knew Bill understood; Frank wanted to make sure that Karen made it into a cab without any more trouble from anyone. After all, the creep probably hadn’t come to the bar by himself.

A cab pulled over in front of the hotel, and Frank opened its door for Karen.

“Always the gentleman,” she said fondly. “Thank you for the book. I’ll return it to you quickly, I promise.”

“Take your time.”

He watches her leave, wishing he could go with her. Two days later, when he’s with a client, he does something he has never done before. While he’s fucking her from behind, he closes his eyes, and pictures he’s with someone else.


	4. Decisions, decisions

Karen ended up texting him to set up a time and place to return his book a few days after Halloween. He was so busy between school, the bar and the agency that he had no choice but to invite her to pass by the bar again. Thankfully, she came on a Wednesday, and it was a quiet night. They ended up talking, mostly undisturbed, until she had to leave in order not to be a mess at work the next day.

They started texting almost daily after that. He’d comment one her articles. She’d ask about his internship interviews. They flirted. Frank dodged Billy’s questions until he couldn’t anymore. Billy teased him mercilessly about falling for a client, and made a few lewd comments about wishing Dinah had picked him for Karen, but Frank refused to rise to the bait. He knew that all the questionable jokes were Billy’s way of gaging Frank’s state of mind over this crucial fact: that for the first time since he’d lost his wife, Frank was finally attracted to a woman for something that went beyond a paid or unpaid tryst. That for the first time since his hopes and happiness were stolen for him, Frank was starting to find things to dream about beyond those tied to his future as a physical therapist.

Whereas he had once dreamed about a house with the white picket fence and a couple of kids running around, he now longed for lazy Sunday mornings in a sunny New York apartment, of waking up to a faceful of long blond hair, of blue eyes smiling at him over coffee in bed, of having someone to throw a blanket on him when he dozed off on the sofa. And a dog. There was definitely a dog to complete the picture.

He was distracted.

Seeing clients had started to feel like a burden. Frank was confident that, thanks to his experience and professionalism, none of them ever felt like they had anything but his undivided attention, but he knew this would become a problem.

Things finally came to a head in mid-December, when Frank finished his very last exam and decided he wanted to celebrate. Along with the usual suspects, Curtis, Bill, plus David and Sarah Lieberman, he invited Karen. He knew he was in for knowing glances and probably a fair share of wagging eyebrows from his friends, but he just… needed Karen to be there. She was his friend too, now, anyway. A friend he was halfway in love with, but a friend all the same.

They got together in some watering hole that was as far from the swanky hotel bar that Frank and Bill moonlighted at as you could get. They toasted to Frank’s upcoming graduation, they ate truly subpar nachos, drank cheap beer, and played pool… which is when, under the thrall of a very pleasant memory, Frank and Karen sort of forgot about everyone else and lost themselves into each other’s company. Gentle trash talk about each other’s skill and technique turned into more intimate teasing and borderline innuendo. They were standing way too close to each other – Frank was almost giddy with it – and when he reached to put a strand of Karen’s hair behind her ear, she flushed, her eyes dipping down to his lips, and that was it, Frank needed to kiss her…

Which is when Billy fucking Russo smacked his ass sharply and said “Hey man, are you working or are we playing?”

Karen stepped away from Frank with a look of complete shock on her face, as if a bucket of ice water had just fallen over her head.

“S-sorry,” she stammered, looking around for a place to put away her pool cue, before giving up and just handing it over to Frank and hurrying away to grab her purse and her coat to dash out of the bar.

“Karen!”

Frank thrust both pool cues against Billy’s chest. “I’m gonna fucking kill you for this,” he growled, before turning around to catch up to Karen.

“Don’t worry, we’ll do it for you,” he heard Sarah call out to him.

He caught up to Karen, who was just a few doors down, fiddling with her phone.

She looked up sharply when he touched her elbow, and he could see she had tears in her eyes.

“What are we doing?” she asked, with a plaintive note. “What am _I_ doing?”

“Karen, Billy was just kidding, I swear… He has a fucked up sense of humour, and I’ve never wanted to bash his face against a sharp surface more than I do right now, but I promise you, it was just a joke, aimed at me, not at you…”

Karen sighed, and looked at his face, but her eyes filled up with tears again.

“Frank… It’s okay, it was just… a wake-up call. It was brutal, but it was needed, I needed to be reminded that I’m not... It’s my fault for letting myself forget about all the reasons I shouldn’t…”

Her phone beeped, interrupting her. “My Uber is here,” she said, looking around for the car, which pulled over right next to them two seconds later.

“Karen, please don’t go,” he whispered, bringing her closer to him to rest his forehead against her. He wanted to add more, wanted to tell her how he felt about her, how he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the day they'd met, but the words got stuck in his throat. Somewhere, wherever she was, Maria was laughing at the fact that, after all these years, Frank was still just as bad at expressing his feelings as he had been when he'd met her.

Karen brought her hand to the back of his neck and gave it a long squeeze.

“It’s okay, Frank. Go back to your friends, enjoy your party. You deserve it.”

And just like that, she left his arms and slipped into the waiting car, and away from him.

When Frank returned to the bar, all his friends were back sitting at their table, except for Billy, who was nowhere in sight. They were looking at him expectantly.

“This almost looks like an intervention,” Frank quipped, sitting down, and suddenly feeling a million years old.

“Maybe you need one,” replied David.

“Where’s Bill?”

“We told him he should probably make himself scarce if he wanted to stay pretty,” Curtis replied. “For what it’s worth, he didn’t seem too proud of himself.”

“Good. Fuck him. Humiliating Karen like that,” Frank gruffed.

“I really don’t think that was his intention,” David intervened, “but let’s just forget about Billy for a moment. What’s going on with you and Karen? You said you were bringing a new friend along tonight, but let me tell you something… you and her aren’t friends, that much is obvious.”

Frank was about to protest when Sarah chimed in.

“What David is trying to say is that we haven’t seen you this smitten with a woman since… well, since Maria. And we don’t understand why you’re hiding behind the “friends” label when she’s clearly as into you as you are into her.”

“You’re having sex with all kinds of women, but not with the woman you’re clearly in love with. That’s some Victorian shit,” added her husband, who was clearly tipsy.

Curtis snorted. “I don’t think the Victorians would agree with that assessment, Lieberman. But in all seriousness, Frank. What’s the hold-up? And don’t say Billy just cock blocked you just now. It’s obvious you’ve been mooning over this woman for months, now…”

Frank sighed. “I’m a sex worker.”

“Yeah, and Karen knows that, right? Maybe she doesn’t care that you’re a gigolo. Some people are open-minded like that.”

Frank didn’t know what to say to that. He’d thought about that. He had no secret from Karen, of course, she knew what he did for a living even before they met… It was the whole reason why they had even met. And Karen was clearly sex positive and open-minded, but there’s still a difference between sex with no strings attached with an escort, and being in a long-term relationship with said escort. And if he was honest with himself, he didn’t see himself kissing Karen goodbye on a Saturday night before going to some hotel to romance and sex up another woman. Some people could compartmentalize like that, but Frank knew he wasn’t built that way. If Karen was to be his, he wanted her to be his alone. And he wanted to be hers alone in return, too.

Frank, after swallowing the whisky that had magically appeared before him, did manage to get this across to his friends.

“So quit,” Curtis said. “You just finished your degree, man. No more tuition and crazy expensive books to pay for. Your internship is gonna be a paid one, no? You don’t need the money anymore. You can’t use that as an excuse to avoid relationships anymore.”

Frank scoffed; as if it was that easy to quit… and then it occurred to him that yes. Yes, it was. He’d actually lost three of his regulars in short succession lately; Beth, who decided to move to Ohio to be closer to her mom, Ally Green, whose husband had been happy with paying “Pete” to fuck his equally enthusiastic wife in front of him, but who now wanted to move into a kinkier territory that just wasn’t Frank’s scene, and Beverly, a true angel of a woman that Frank simply adored, but for whom the arrival of menopause had coincided with a sudden drop in libido. Frank was not the kind of man inclined to believe that the universe was trying to send him a message, but thinking back on all of this, maybe the stars had all been lining up for him to retire as an escort since the night he walked into that loft to meet Karen.

Maybe it _was_ time…

It was time.

Madani was going to kill him.

Sunday morning, Frank was woken up from a restless sleep by the beeping of his phone. He scrambled around the nightstand to check who was texting him at the ungodly early hour of 10 a.m. on the fucking day of the Lord.

It was a text from Bill, but the message only contained an address. A minute later, another text arrived.

“Needled Dinah into giving me Karen’s address for you, so you can send her some flowers or whatever. Consider this my apology gift.”

An hour later, Frank was walking through Hell’s Kitchen, blinking away the snowflakes that the wind kept blowing in his face. He’d thought about sending flowers to Karen like Bill had suggested, but in the end, he decided that what he had to say to her needed to be said in person.

He’d called Madani soon after receiving Bill’s text. She had obviously been expecting to hear from him.

“You’re quitting on me, aren’t you?” was what she had said in lieu of a greeting.

“Uh. Yes. Yes, I am. I think it’s time for me to move on. Sorry about your 10 %.”

“15 %. And whatever, you’re getting old, anyway. Better to call it quits before you need to resort to blue pills and what not.”

Frank snorted. “Gee, thanks Madani. It means so much, knowing I’ll be missed.”

“Yeah, well… If I’d known you and Karen would hit it off this well, I would have just set you two on a blind date. It would have saved me a lot of money.”

“We’ll make sure to thank you at our wedding.”

“Please don’t. I’m going back to bed now. Go get your lady and let me sleep in peace.”

“All right. But in all seriousness, Madani, thank you. For everything.”

Dinah sighed.

“You’re welcome, I guess. And Castle?

“Hm?”

“If you hurt her, I’ll cut off your balls.”

Frank laughed. “I’d expect no less.”

A few minutes later, he got to Karen’s building, and he buzzed her number.

“Hello?”

“Karen… it’s Frank. I’m sorry to show up like this, but can I come up? Or you can come down, if you prefer, I’ll wait however long you need…”

“Frank! Don’t be silly, of course you can come up,” she said, and the buzz of the door rang out.

When he arrived on her floor, he saw her standing on her apartment’s landing. She was wearing lounging clothes that looked so soft and comfortable, her hair was swept up in a messy do, exposing the moles on her neck that he had longed to kiss again for months now. She truly looked like the pure embodiment of all those new daydream he’d been having.

“Hey,” he said, voice suddenly hoarse. He loved her. God how he loved her.

“Hey… what’s going on Frank? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but did something happen?”

“There’s something I needed to tell you, and I didn’t want to do it on the phone.“

“Okay…”

“I wasn’t offering as Pete.”

“What?”

“That day, back in October, when we bumped into each other for the first time after our night together. I said I’d be happy to touch you and be touched by you any time you liked. Well, that wasn’t Pete talking, it was me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking you about since the night we met.”

Karen let out a strangled sob and brought her hand up to her mouth as if to stifle more. But her eyes… Her eyes, though filled with tears and a touch of disbelief, said it all. Her eyes were smiling.

“And anyway, Pete just retired,” Frank added. He reached for Karen’s left cheek to wipe her tears with his thumb. “He hasn’t been able to keep his focus in months.”

Karen gave a soft laugh, then turned her head ever so slightly to brush her lips against his palm.

“What about Frank? What is Frank up to today?” she whispered.

“Whatever you are up to,” he replied, bring his forehead against hers.

Karen brought her arms around his neck.

“Well, maybe you could come in for some coffee.”

He said yes with a soft kiss to her lips.

“And then, I was going to make some ginger snaps and polish them off while watching a stupid Christmas movie. Maybe you’d like to join me for that too.”

He hummed in his throat and kissed her again.

“And maybe you could help me finish trimming my Christmas tree. It looks pretty pathetic at the moment.”

Another kiss.

“And at some point, between all that, maybe we could get naked together?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Frank replied, before kissing her fully this time, until she started tugging on his coat lapels to pull him inside the warmth of her apartment. 

This time, when Karen cried out his name, she did cry out his real one, just like he had been imagining it for months. And right then, right at that moment, Frank just knew that all the rest of his fantasies and dreams would eventually come true as well.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun with this one, and my head cannon is so much bigger than I had time to write to make the Christmas gift exchange deadline... 
> 
> I might actually return to this AU down the line, probably for a series of vignette from Karen's POV, if anyone thinks they might be interested in reading that...
> 
> Happy Holidays, Kastle fam!

**Author's Note:**

> I had fun with this one, and my head cannon is so much bigger than I had time to write to make the Christmas gift exchange deadline... 
> 
> I might actually return to the AU down the line, probably for a series of vignette from Karen's POV, if anyone thinks they might be interested in reading that...
> 
> Happy Holidays, Kastle fam!


End file.
